


Running Into the Sun

by booksong



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, KageHina - Freeform, M/M, Racing, help volleyball idiots are taking over my life, jk i love it, little bit of a future glimpse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-14 23:43:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2207478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksong/pseuds/booksong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It may as well be the rising of the sun or the crow of a rooster; the tiny windstorm that is the setter and decoy of Karasuno hurtling down the hill and into a new day."</p><p>The evolution of two volleyball dorks, a much debated scoring system, and a Karasuno tradition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Into the Sun

It’s a fall morning, but one of the hotter ones, where the moment the sun comes up the temperature begins to climb. There’s barely anyone on this stretch of path yet; no one but the athletes bother to come to school this early. Kageyama is glad; he likes the chance to be alone with his thoughts for this long, at least. He can rehearse plays, visualize spikes, murmur new formations under his breath, with no one around to distract him. 

But distraction _will_ come.

Kageyama always hears Hinata before he sees him, and isn’t that just typical. Sometimes he’s on his bike, in which case the buzzing clatter of the spokes and chains and pedals can be heard from quite a distance. Other times he’s on foot, and it’s not until he hears the rapidly approaching _thumpthumpthumpthump_ of footsteps on the pavement, mixing with soft huffs of breath as they close in, that signal his approach. 

Today it’s the bike. The sound drags Kageyama grumbling from a mental rehearsal of a smooth back set, out of his head and into the warming air, shoulders tightening against the approach of the summer whirlwind that doesn’t confine itself to any one season. Unfortunately. 

_“Good morning, Kagayamaaaaaa!”_ Kageyama squeezes his eyes shut briefly, both at the sudden squeal of Hinata’s brakes and the shouted greeting, always the loudest thing he’s heard thus far in the morning. 

“Not so loud, dumbass, I’m right here.” Kageyama puts his hands in his pockets, starting to increase his pace without thinking about it. The noise and energy Hinata brings with him by his mere presence always jolts him rudely out of his morning calm…but it also always starts something stirring in his blood. 

“Sorry! I just was happy to see you because I kept waking up last night thinking about that new play Suga-senpai told us about. I think I even dreamed about it, but I can’t remember my dreams very well, can you?” Hinata is letting his bike click gently along at a walking pace beside him, one hand on the brake, not yet noticing the tempo of Kageyama’s feet picking up. “But I thought maybe we could try it before everyone gets here and then when Suga-senpai comes we can show him and he’ll be like ‘Ahhh~’ and then Noya-senpai and Tanaka-senpai could be like ‘Uwaoh so cool!’ and buy me an extra meat bun again and— _HEY! No fair starting Kageyama you didn’t call it!”_

Between what seems like one breath and the next, the urge to move, to start, to _win_ hits Kageyama and he’s gone. The natural tilt of the hill seems to push him forward and he shoves his gear bag over his hip to keep it somewhat secure and _runs_. He hears Hinata give a wordless cry of challenge behind him and then the buzz of his bike picks up into an angry hornet sound and now it’s on.

“You’re a dirty cheater Kageyama, we’re supposed to start at the same time this isn’t fair!” Hinata’s wail is mostly shredded by the wind, but all Kageyama can see is their currently tied score, and his own 45 moving up into a 46, one more notch higher than Hinata…

“Yeah…but…you…bike…” he tries to snap back, but it comes out more as panting and only succeeds in giving him a stitch under his ribcage. Hinata’s only reply is a sound that might have been meant as a growl but sounds like a stepped-on cat. 

The students they shoot past watch with varying degrees of curiosity and confusion, with the exception of one tall boy with thick-framed black glasses and his lean, freckled hanger-on. 

“Right on time,” Tsukishima murmurs disdainfully, and Yamaguchi chuckles loyally, as he does each morning. When they, along with the second and third-years, finally arrive at the gym, they find a bike hastily tossed down on its side, and a wheezing Hinata halfheartedly pounding his fist against a fallen but triumphant Kageyama’s back, gasping “Doesn’t count… cheater Kageyama…doesn’t… _count!”_

It may as well be the rising of the sun or the crow of a rooster; the tiny windstorm that is the setter and decoy of Karasuno hurtling down the hill and into a new day. 

****

Once their scores extend into the triple digits, sometimes Hinata doesn’t even pause to babble small talk at him before they start. Kageyama can usually tell, now, by the speed of his footfalls and the rhythm of his breath: whether Hinata intends to first stop and regale him with a hilarious happening from the family breakfast table or the highlights of a volleyball game he caught on TV the previous night, or if he’s going to rush straight past him with a battle cry. He tells himself that it benefits them on the court too, that it can only help him to get more and more in tune with the boy who seems to already anticipate his tosses like he can read Kageyama’s mind. 

Kageyama almost never lets himself wonder if the reason he’s learned how to read Hinata’s intentions so quickly is because it’s already becoming second nature for him to map his partner’s every move across the court without ever having to look at him. 

Today doesn’t sound like a stopping day; Hinata’s approaching breathing has that wild, eager little huff in it that suggests he’s going at a quick clip and is already envisioning victory. A victory Kageyama absolutely doesn’t intend to let him claim. He waits, letting the fizz in his blood work itself through his chest and stomach where it begins to riot in a tiny hurricane of coiled energy waiting to be sprung. Not so unlike Hinata himself, actually. 

_Thump thump thump thumpthumpthumpTHUMP—_

_There._

Hinata’s foot smacks the pavement level with him and Kageyama takes off in the same breath with a _“Hah!”_ of triumph. He’ll beat Hinata with a sprint; the dumbass has the stamina from his mountain commute, but Kageyama still has the longer legs and the shorter distance to run. 

He doesn’t notice the feral grin that works its way onto his face, which has in fact been his default racing expression for weeks now. Tsukishima does, but that’s because he’s had a front row seat to the idiot racing show every day they have morning practice, which is most mornings. 

“Morons,” he says calmly as Hinata blows past he and Yamaguchi, making bizarre wailing and yelping war cries as he gains on Kageyama’s heels. 

“Want to bet which of them wins this morning?” Yamaguchi asks, trying to be casual but sounding kind of enthused at the thought. 

“As if I’d do anything to encourage them.” 

“Sorry, Tsukki.” The reply is so rote he hardly sounds chastened anymore. 

Tsukishima pushes his glasses up. “Anyway, more fun to bet on which of them pushes Daichi-san too far first and has to run laps.” 

Yamaguchi glances up at him. “…Bet you two drinks on Kageyama, then?”

“What did I just say about encouraging them?”

“Sor—”

“Two drinks on Hinata. Judging by the sound of him he’s in top form today.”

Yamaguchi smiles crookedly at him. “You’re on, Tsukki.”

When they get down to the gym, Hinata, his temples and the back of his shirt streaked in sweat, is clinging to Kageyama’s back as they argue over whether his score is now 132 or 132.5. 

“Get off me, you idiot!”

“We agreed that one last week wasn’t a real point!”

“I did no such thing!”

“Suga-senpaiiiii, you heard him agree, right?”

“Dumbass, don’t involve other people in your delusions!”

Kageyama, though perfectly able to do so, has not yet dumped Hinata off his back. He is still wearing the slight remnants of his racing grin. 

Tsukishima notices, and smirks. About thirty seconds later, he also wins the bet. 

***

There had been a heavy snow the previous night, and now there are snowdrifts heaped knee high on the sides of the path. There are still a few melting patches of snow and ice here and there on the concrete, but they’re dark and easy to avoid. The angle of the rising sun means that every huff of breath looks like a plume of smoke from the mouth of a dragon. 

Hinata had excitedly pointed this out during the few minutes they’d walked together before the race had begun. He’d also spent several minutes making growling and roaring sounds like a five-year-old with each exhale, but Kageyama had only deigned to give him an eyeroll and a light, disdainful elbow in his side that he probably hadn’t even felt through his snow jacket. Kageyama has found that unexpectedly he’s felt settled rather than stirred by Hinata’s presence this morning. The race seems more like a formality today, something to warm their muscles before practice, rather than something he’s burning to do. 

_During_ the race is a different matter though. Once he gets going, there’s nothing strong enough to dampen the shot of competitive adrenaline that races through him. His heavy jacket, worn in anticipation of more snow later on, feels like it’s dragging him down a little, but he comforts himself knowing that Hinata is equally, if not more, encumbered by his own coat. 

It’s exhilarating, chill wind roaring past his face and mingling with Hinata’s yelps and roars just a little behind him. Their combined breath is a steaming cloud and now the bottom of the hill is in sight…

And then out of the corner of his eye Kageyama sees a little black ice patch, like a shiny puddle. The edge of Hinata’s foot catches it at the same moment he gulps in a breath to shout a warning. 

Kageyama almost slips himself as he tries to stop his headlong rush and turn in the same moment, shoes skidding on the concrete for purchase. The adrenaline in his blood is suddenly freezing cold.

But Hinata doesn’t fall, although it’s a near thing. His ridiculous reflexes save him the way they do on the court and when he’s on the receiving end of Kageyama’s angry smacks and throws. The momentary fear and shock on his face is brushed away the moment he regains his balance, and before Kageyama has time to register it, _he’s running again_. Kageyama is so stunned by how quickly everything happens that it takes him a moment to follow, pouring on speed so he doesn’t embarrass himself completely. 

Sometimes he wishes he could come up with more creative insults, but then he’s always reminded why this one fits Hinata so well. _Dumbass!_

Their finish is close, as it usually is; Kageyama stumbles to a stop on the flat concrete in front of the gym, forcing himself not to give in to the desire to double over and gasp freezing air into his achy lungs. 

_“Phwaaah_ …that was…close!” Hinata, who finished a scant couple strides ahead of him, is red-cheeked and blowing clouds of smoky breath left and right, and he’s grinning like he hadn’t nearly gone face first into unforgiving pavement. “Ha, you should have seen your face back there Kageyama!” 

_“I…won that!”_ snaps out Kageyama, feeling annoyance flood up, reliably covering his surge of embarrassment. 

“It’s not my fault you decided to try to stop and be a hero,” insists Hinata, and how ungrateful is that? “I still got here first.” 

“Idiot, anyone would want to make sure you didn’t break your neck, what would the team do without you?” _What would_ I _do without you?_ whispers the traitorous voice in the back of his head that has been feeling the need to make itself known lately. 

Hinata looks so abashed for a brief moment that Kageyama feels a flutter of panic wondering if he’d somehow said the second part out loud. But then he just looks petulant. “You just don’t want to give me the point.” 

_Of course I don’t, dumbass. Or we’ll be tied again._ “I just think it’s obvious I would have won if you’d been looking where you were going!” 

“Hmph. First you make me give you that half point that _didn’t count_ and now this…” The petulance is a full blown pout now, and is Hinata not aware of how ridiculous he looks when he does that? It makes Kageyama want to grab his head and…ruffle his hair, or something. Ruffle it _violently._

Speaking of which, Hinata’s hair is sticking up windblown with a spatter of snow in it that probably fell from a tree or something. He’s bouncing a little on his toes because he’s never, _ever_ still and cloudy breath is steaming from his nostrils and he kind of _does_ look like a dragon, a skittery, excitable one with wide amber-ish eyes and cold-chapped lips, and Kageyama suddenly wants him to shut up about the damn points already because he feels light-headed and not quite himself. 

Wanting Hinata to be quiet is not an unusual desire for him. Wanting to shut him up by pulling his breathless, argumentative, coat-covered self close to his chest and—yeah, _that_ was pretty unusual. Not impossible anymore though, not when it had crossed his mind uncomfortably often these past few weeks. Not even improbable, really. Maybe even…

“Okay, how about if this one takes the place of the half point, because it was pretty cool how you stopped that fast in the middle of running like ‘Fwooshhh~!’ and were going to try to save me, but since obviously I got here _first_ there’s no way it coun—”

Kageyama kisses him mid-sentence, mid-word even; he can almost feel the mumbled sound fade out against his lips. It’s kind of tense, both because Hinata isn’t responding and because the cold is starting to seep back into his muscles as the running high wears off. 

When he draws back, Kageyama wonders if maybe he’s lost after all, in a way, but he just drops his gaze and growls, “Admit it, _I won._ ” Hoping the low, threatening tone conceals the hoarseness in his voice. 

“H-Hey, stop trying to distract me!” Kageyama is dumbstruck that Hinata sounds more indignant than anything else about getting his first kiss; there’s a pink flush on his cheeks, but that _could_ be from the race or the chill. “Geez, you’ll try anything, won’t you?” The shut-up thing doesn’t appear to be working either. 

Kageyama reaches over and brushes the snow out of Hinata’s bright hair because it’s bothering him, and because it’s soft on his cold fingers. Hinata’s eyes widen and he sort of swallows hard, but he still doesn’t stop talking. “I _swear_ , you’re full of all these cheating tricks Kageyama, you cheating cheater _mmpf—!”_

Kageyama decides that he isn’t giving up that easily.

Somewhere in the back of his hazy mind, he realizes with a dim sense of horror that he kind of already _loves_ the feeling of the small, compact leanness of Hinata pressed up against his front, even as the other boy suddenly surges defiantly up on his toes to keep their mouths connected. The chibi has apparently decided that, if Kageyama doesn’t intend to give in, he’s going to turn _this_ into a competition too. 

Hinata’s mouth is cold, but it’s getting warmer with every breath they share. Kageyama’s heart is pounding so hard they may as well still be racing. His legs kind of feel weak the same way too.

He thinks that, much like the races, he could learn to get used to this. Rather quickly.

He wonders how they’ll keep score.

***

The steep downhill slope is actually kind of nice, thinks Kota; it has a great view of trees and distant mountains and the school buildings down below, and the tilt of the concrete under his feet makes the walk feel quicker and easier. Technically the route he’d taken each morning last week was more direct, but it had followed a road most of the way and was flat and noisy. Here there aren’t many other people on the path this early, giving him the chance to feel alone with his thoughts, to plan for the practice ahead. It’s only his second week in the Karasuno volleyball club, and already Abe-senpai’s been helping him out so much with his shaky serves; he really wants to show him that he’s improving so he can make the lineup someday soon. 

Kota is just starting to visualize where he’ll stand on the court and what angle he should toss the ball at, when there’s a sudden swell of noise somewhere behind him. He turns to look over his shoulder, startled and nonplussed. It’s so _early_ , who would even be making so much noise when the sun’s just barely come up and most students are just starting to straggle to school? 

There are two figures coming down the hill towards him… _very quickly_. For a second he wonders if they’re members of the track club on a morning cross-country run, but they aren’t moving at a brisk runners’ jog, they’re flat out _sprinting_. And then he does a double take when he recognizes the fiery orange hair of one of them; no one else at their school has hair like that. 

Hinata-senpai? _Kageyama-senpai?!_

It is them; Kota can see it but can’t quite believe it. The high-pitched battle cries uttered in some nonsensical language are definitely Hinata-senpai, and even after just one week Kota knows Kageyama-senpai’s sharp voice well enough too. But this isn’t a quick exchange of grumbled argument on the court; even at this distance the yelling they’re doing is like the gradual approach of a windstorm, gathering strength and volume as it comes. 

“Oiiiiiii Kageyama! Don’t tell me you got all soft over summer break!” Hinata-senpai’s voice rings out ahead of them. 

“Stop running your big mouth or I’m gonna leave you in the dust, chibi Hinata!”

Sure, a couple times last week when he’d gotten to morning practice he’d noticed the team’s co-captains sweating and breathing heavily or leaning against the doorframe, and he’d heard the older members laughing and saying something about morning races before, but somehow Kota had never quite imagined _this._

As they charge closer, he swears that Kageyama-senpai is _laughing_ , albeit in breathless huffs, which he has not seen or even _heard_ of ever happening. It could be that he’s gasping in air or something, but in the brief moment before the two of them overtake Kota his eyes are definitely blazing with a kind of fierce exhilaration that makes the first-year stare in open-mouthed amazement. As they blow past, Kageyama-senpai swerves sideways and knocks his shoulder into Hinata-senpai’s, not hard enough to make him break stride. It’s almost… _playful._

“Fighting dirty as usual!” Hinata-senpai crows, but _his_ smile doesn’t need to be questioned; he looks like he’s having the time of his life. 

Kota feels like he’s witnessing some strange revelation from those so-called rose-colored days of youth everyone always talks about. 

He watches their rapidly disappearing backs as their bounding strides eat up the remaining distance to the bottom of the hill, their shouts drifting back to him as snatches of laughter and insult. 

Wow, this really is a more interesting path to school. 

When he finally gets down to the gym, he at last has context for the sight of his two captains in a panting heap just past the threshold of the door. 

And they _do_ look really winded and exhausted, like two people who have just finished a desperate race, but Kota also thinks they kind of look really _comfortable_. Hinata-senpai has his head pillowed on Kageyama-senpai's shoulder as he gasps for breath, and he's kind of sprawled on top of him, knees on either side of the setter's waist. Kageyama-senpai has his head caught in the formidable-looking claw of one hand, still growling _"Dumbass"_ breathlessly, but his fingers look more like they’re stroking his co-captain's hair than yanking it.

People say a lot of different things about Karasuno’s volleyball captains, ranging from the plausible to the outrageous, so he hasn’t known quite what to believe yet, but…

“Oi! What are you looking at?”

Kageyama-senpai has apparently recovered enough of his breath to manage a very serviceable intimidating bark. His slate-colored eyes are locked on Kota over the orange mess of Hinata-senpai’s hair. He jumps instinctively and stammers, “N-n-nothing Kageyama-senpai!”

“Then go get the gear out so we can start running drills.”

He can still hear them talking as he goes over to help Abe-senpai unload the balls. 

“So that’s 694 for me, and 693.5 for you, right?”

“I thought we were done with the stupid half point.”

“You should be happy about it, otherwise you’d be a _whole_ point behind me, Tobio.”

_“What are you—?! Do not **call** me that in public, Shouyou you stupid, idiot dumbass!”_

“Oops. Wait, you just did it too! _Ha!”_

Kota stares a wide-eyed question at Abe-senpai. The wing spiker just winks and tosses him a ball before jogging to the opposite side of the net so they can volley. The two captains make their way across the court, Hinata-senpai’s wild hair still flattened under Kageyama-senpai’s firm grip. They’re still snapping at each other, but there’s no steel in it whatsoever…there never really was, Kota realizes. And when Kageyama-senpai carelessly flicks a volleyball out of the cart and tosses it up one-handed over his shoulder without looking, Hinata-senpai shoots out from under his hand and leaps for it without missing a beat. The ball makes that hugely satisfying smacking sound that Kota is already coming to love, followed a second later by the dull thunder of its landing on the other side of the net. Hinata-senpai whoops, a bright, thrilled cry not so different from the sounds he’d made as he’d raced Kageyama-senpai down the hill.

Watching them makes him want to be better, Kota realizes, as he follows Kageyama-senpai’s gruff order to start practicing with Abe-senpai. Not just their astonishing quicks and the deadly combination of Kageyama-senpai’s tosses and spikes with Hinata-senpai’s inhuman speed and intuition. But also the cheerful way Hinata-senpai slaps backs and ruffles hair and almost knocks them over with enthusiasm if they get a play right, and the way Kageyama-senpai’s fierce smile can look almost proud sometimes and his cutting voice always assures them that they _can_ do this. And, though Kota thinks he has only begun to realize it, the way they are with each other; relentless and sharp and empathic and, apparently, still racing each other every morning like grade-schoolers. 

The next morning, Kota chooses the hill path without a second thought, knowing that he probably will never choose to walk the direct road route again. It’s quiet and mostly empty this early, and the way the rising sun touches the roofs and treetops is peaceful. He can think about practice and daydream about tournaments to come, and feel warm remembering how everyone had praised him for managing a perfect serve yesterday. 

And when the silence is eventually broken, he’ll have a front row seat to one of the Karasuno volleyball team’s enduring traditions; a living reminder that certain things never change, and that even after 693.5 wins, you could always try for another one.

**Author's Note:**

> *Fic inspired by [THIS](http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=manga&illust_id=45224152) gorgeous piece of fanart.
> 
> *Thanks also due to:
> 
> -[b_minor](http://archiveofourown.org/users/b_minor/pseuds/b_minor) for suggesting the names of the new Karasuno players, Kota and Abe-senpai (borrowed from the real-life Japanese men’s national volleyball team), and for being generally lovely, supportive, and a fantastic fellow Haikyuu!! fan.
> 
> -The Royal Concept song [On Our Way](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=976Hiy4M6lE), which I listened to multiple times to keep getting back into the right mindset to write this. So I suppose you could call it the fic’s theme song. 
> 
> And as always, thank _you_ for reading and for any comments and kudos left! =)


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